


Tick Tock

by SpaceMatriarchy



Series: Paper Chains Drabbles [1]
Category: Original Work, Paper Chains
Genre: Alternate History, Angst, Because I wrote fanfic for my own novel and that's a bit weird but shhh just come, F/F, Femslash, I need to archive some stuff okay?, Samantha's Watch is important because I said so, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceMatriarchy/pseuds/SpaceMatriarchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sounds haunt her.<br/>Tick Tick Tick. You let me down, Eliza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tick Tock

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote angst fanfiction of a novel I'm not even finished writing. I'm sorry. I really am.  
> I just want to archive this so that when I'm famous my fandom will think 'wow she's just like us with her fanfiction' and everything will be puppies and rainbows.  
> (Actually because, despite the fact that I can't include it in the finished product because it's a deviation from the actual plot, I'm proud of it)

She didn’t take the shot.

Eliza didn’t take the shot and, at night, the sound haunts her, at first. _Tick, tick, tick. You destroyed everything, Eliza. It’s all your fault, Eliza. You let me down, Eliza._

She hides the watch under her pillow, curses Oscar for ever giving it to her, and fights down her wakefulness.

Several months later, it isn’t so bad. _Tick, tick, tick. Do you miss me, Eliza? I’m not here, Eliza. You had your chance, Eliza._

By the time she flees England, it swings, almost proudly, around her neck, on the same chain that Samantha once wore it. It sways with the moving of the ship, and rests only at night, on her bedside table. _Tick, tick, tick. I miss you, Eliza. You’re strong, Eliza. I love you, Eliza._

When she’s nearing fifty, Eliza rises from the criminal underbelly once more. She crosses the ocean with a shipload of Canadian soldiers, receives her marching orders in the old city she once called home, but can no longer face in the harsh light of all that has happened there. She cradles the watch in her fingers, on the train to Berlin, clutches it like her only anchor, and murmurs silent prayers against it’s brass casing. It’s the worst part - her heart pounds like a drum and matches the beat of the timepiece. _Tick, tick, tick. It’ll be alright, Eliza. You can do it, Eliza. I believe in you, Eliza._

She is perfect, when the time comes. She is serene, and blank, and empty of all but that which was taught to her by the one who mattered most. The bystanders are too stunned to make meaningful movements to stop her. She draws, cocks the barrel, and puts a bullet between the Kaiser’s eyes. There is a moment of pregnant silence - and then they charge.

Eliza does not drop her gun. She’s finished, done for - she always knew this was a suicide mission. But she’d rather go out now, fighting like a wild thing, than fall to her knees and hang like some common petty criminal for what she’s done. It’s what Samantha would have done. Never stop, never hesitate, not when you have a point to prove.

She takes a shot in the chest, and crumples like a paper bag. She holds tight to her pocket watch - she can’t feel the pain anymore. Just the pleasant warmth of her own blood on her skin. _Tick, tick, tick. You won, Eliza. You ended it, Eliza. The war is over, Eliza._

_I’ve missed you so, Samantha._

_Shush, pigeon - we’re together now._


End file.
